Your father was stubborn. And because you were strong-willed too, you refused to wear the vest of shock she gave you.

Its sight pinched you, drove pins into your skin till they grazed your aorta. You feared they would shred the muscles of your heart but you would not give up.

You told her. Again and again. She would smile. And walk. Away into the starry night. Hope for you was the setting sun, it had to rise in the morning. But for company at night, you drained your data on Instagram.

Nostalgia led your bytes to her page and you drowned in the forgetfulness that characterised it. Her hearty smile and your restrained cheer in a red shirt were gone, the one with your pimpled nose too. Vaporised!

You went to Twitter and checked her bio. It was there you realised the sun would rise at dawn but not with hope for your shredded heart.

The word ‘Lover’ was gone, space occupied its place, your subtle reference. You were now a vile history, an unholy anecdote, cleansed, and erased.

I once got into a conversation with a friend about what it really means to miss someone else. It’s common to casually tell friends and family we have not seen in a while that we miss them, sometimes as a perfunctory response to their own declaration. We get busy with chasing our dreams and making ends meet that we rarely feel any vacuum created by people’s absence but when eventually meet and we say we miss them, what do we really miss: their voice, touch, mannerisms, actions or what exactly? Continue reading →

These streets have been quite, sane; clear And wordless testaments of conformism But this week I choose to light the wick Peeping out of the cold wax of defiance Thoughts of you will kindle a little flame But this wick will burn even in the winds.

“Post No Bills”; words emblazoned on emulsion Shepherding cautious pedestrians into compliance Faked smiles on fading posters have disappeared Even lengthy revival names on episcopal banners But me, I’m lured into defiance by my emotions Who can beat me out of priceless heartbeats, for you?

So, tonight, I dare the municipal council I will share with the world, on these city walls Treasured images, only my heart has nursed Let my sight into the possibility, even if only I try, That a soul with soaring beauty defying gravity Can weave through colours and brush into a graffiti.

The city will wake up to ambivalence Of how the benevolence of your appearance Can at once gratify all aesthetic longings, and touch Their hearts, but also tear at their idealist core Pray, if they get down the wall graffiti, they can’t Cauterize the many hearts it already sits upon.